The meaning of the letter R

I notice the changes in this little girl more when I am away.

Her mother did not seem to notice, but I did. The letter R comes to mind.

The mouth of kks can rap itself around an R.

I have accepted that I am not going to get rid of Dora the Explorer any time soon, so I am making an attempt at embracing this little Latina...kks and I look for Swiper the Fox just about everywhere. In the local HyVee, on Louise Avenue, in the church. That R sound comes out clear as a bell--a sign that she is not a baby. A W sound speaks baby to me. An R means a little girl is about ready to start giving me sentences--maybe she'll be on the debate team. Maybe she'll run for public office or be a preacher. Or maybe she will take on the vocation Mrs. Kanellis or Ms. Adkins, my beloved teachers, or the captain of her hockey team.

That R means a lot.

She's talking to herself in her bedroom now. I think I'll go listen in before we are off for our days of doing stuff.

Five less dollars in the therapy jar?

We have a statement in our household when we do something to warp the psyche of the little girl--

"There's five more dollars that needs to go in the therapy jar."

We wonder about this developing need for therapy in a dual-pastorate household. Our schedules change frequently. KKS eats in the car a little too much, sometimes watches too much television, meals come at irregular times, sometimes wears an outfit inappropriate to the weather, hears her parents go a little nuts and impatient, sees too many different care givers...etc. etc. Lots o' cash in the mythical therapy jar.

But I also know she receives a tremendous amount of love.

This kid is resilient. The past few days have been a joy. We have been especially attentive and patient with her sleeping and eating...since she moved to a toddler bed earlier this year, she found it a novelty to get out frequently, turn out the light and do whatever she damn well pleased (within the confines of her room). She doesn't do that so much anymore. She's probably learning much more than we are. All it took was a little freedom to work it out for herself.

Yesterday we at the local Mongolian grille. She took longer eating than we did. This is big stuff. She was eating ketchup, using her waffle fries as a scoop...not the only thing she ate, but an interesting adaptation.

It amazing to me how important sleeping and eating are.

She is willingly going to bed--and if I just sing to her when she wakes up, it is amazing how she is able to transition better into the waking hours. We have fun eating at the table together. This is kind of new for us as well.

The light we have seen these past few days with kks remind me of her amazing capacities, and that maybe we COULD take five bucks out of the therapy jar and take that little girl out for some ice cream...